


Mutam nequiquam alloquerer cinerem

by LaMalefix



Series: Ex Machina [2]
Category: The Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare, The Shadowhunter Chronicles - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, I'm Bad At Tagging, M/M, Temporary Character Death, not so near happy ending, not so temporary character death, so very Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-12
Updated: 2018-10-03
Packaged: 2019-07-11 10:04:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15970073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaMalefix/pseuds/LaMalefix
Summary: And then Magnus moves his lips.His soft lips.He moves his lips and seems to say…He seems to say that he is sorry.He seems to say goodbye.Goodbye.And his eyes are now full of pain.And tears.And Alec shouts, maybe he doesn’t even realize what he’s saying, what he’s yelling through that sheet of glass.Please. Please. Please.Please, don’t…Don’t…[Previously] A mission goes horribly awry, and Jace remains mortally wounded; Magnus as usual saves the day but... at what price?And now, Alec has to deal with Magnus' extreme choice, and he couldn't feel any more hollow.The (not-so-long-awaited) second part of the Ex Machina series.





	1. The sound of a broken heart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, here we go again...  
> thank you so much for your support on the previous work of this series...  
> I think it will be a three chapter story, because I'm damn verbose and I have a lot, a loooot of things to say about this.  
> So this is the not-so-long awaited Alec's POV over the Quandoquidem events, and starts from where we left him: witnessing Magnus' departure.  
> So I hope you'll enjoy this.  
> And as you'll read, I'm getting more and more cruel, sorry not sorry.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It’s unnatural.

Abnormal.

It’s all _so_ quiet.

There is this disarming silence. And it’s absurd, because Alec is pretty certain that he’s shouting. Yeah, he’s screaming. Like crazy.

He shouts. He screams. He yells. He calls. He squalls.

But he doesn’t hear anything.

Nothing.

And out of there, a few steps away from him, everything is so calm, and everything seems so still. Although there is a whirlpool that envelopes Magnus in a thick black fog, a dark appalling mist, and there is something that shines above the head of the person he loves. It all seems motionless. And Magnus isn’t reacting, he’s not even trying to move, to get free. He just stays there.

It’s all so absurd.

It’s all so unnatural and silent.

It’s all so calm.

All so quiet.

And Alec has never felt so helpless. So completely powerless.

Never in all his life.

Not being able to open a fucking window, a fucking sheet of glass that separates him from Magnus. Nothing so easy to break, yet it’s now his biggest obstacle. Something, some spell, blocks the door. That dense black fog that surrounds Magnus is blocking the door. That’s for certain.

And he calls him, he calls Magnus loudly. And maybe he doesn’t even realize how loud he is shouting, how hard he calls his name, that name that, just a few moments ago, he only had the strength to murmur slowly between a moan and the other, between the sheets, his hand covering his mouth. Because nothing comes to his ears.

Nothing.

But Magnus has moved now. In that total stillness, Magnus moved. And now he’s looking at him. Magnus is looking at him. He looks at him with wide eyes. He looks at him with dilated pupils, and a shocked expression. It’s as if he had just noticed him, _as if_...

And maybe Alec has stopped, already.

Maybe he’s stopped shouting, just now, maybe he doesn’t really shout, even if he has the feeling that something takes his breath away, his throat torn.

And he beats hard, against the glass, with his shoulder, with his arm, with both his hands, with all the strength he has.

Without his stele he’s nothing, not if that dark mist blocks the window with its magic. Damn it, that fog wants to divide them. And they work so well together.

And perhaps Alec just has to go and look for his stele, lost somewhere in the heap of his abandoned clothes on the bedroom floor; but he doesn’t have the heart to move from there. He must find a solution, he must help Magnus because that thing, whatever it is, is wrapping him in the darkness that thickens its volatile shape.

Alec can’t move from there. He just can’t. Because as soon as Magnus reacts, as soon as Magnus snaps his fingers and calls back his magic and directs it against that black cloud, he must intervene too.

And he can’t leave because Magnus is watching him. His golden eyes look at him, and he looks hurt, he seems upset. And judging by how his shoulders relax when he sees him, by how he just smiles a little, he seems to have given up. And he seems to want to tell him something, with that hurt look ─ he looks as if something is hurting him. A voiceless, a silent pain. Inner, internal.

And then Magnus moves his lips.

His soft lips.

He moves his lips and seems to say…

He seems to say that he is sorry.

He seems to say goodbye.

_Goodbye._

And his eyes are now full of pain.

And tears.

 

And Alec shouts, maybe he doesn’t even realize what he’s saying, what he’s yelling through that sheet of glass.

_Please. Please. Please._

_Please, don’t…_

_Don’t…_

 

He wants to keep him there. He just wants to keep him there. With him.

And only a part of him seems to notice that farewell. A small part of him seems to tell him that Magnus knows it’s happening. He knows. And he didn’t tell him.

But there is that other part of him, the most prominent one, who just wants to help him. Who just wants to get Magnus back inside and bring him back to bed, because he can’t sleep without Magnus; and maybe make sweet sweet love to him. And he just wants this. He wants to bring it back home, warm him up a bit because it started to get chilly, and make sure that the thick black fog did nothing to him and then tugging him closer and kiss him, before going back to sleep.

Nothing more.

He just wants Magnus.

That’s not asking too much, is it?

He just wants to forget that bad adventure. And maybe be a little bit more useful than that, he just seems almost an idiot, beating that sheet of glass that doesn’t even to want to break, it doesn’t even seem to want to cooperate.

And there is that unpleasant sensation, that suddenly passes through his body, like an icy shiver. A wave of unexpected pain, which for a moment, just one moment takes his breath away.

Because something is happening there. Something shines just above Magnus’s head.

 

 

_And then_ …

 

 

And then everything happens quickly.

It’s a matter of a moments. So sudden that seems like a dream. And the sound comes back, his screams return and finally he stops, his throat burning as Magnus’ name snatches his vocal cords one last time.

The dense darkness has thinned out, dissolving completely in a blink of an eye. And Magnus is on the ground.

And that thought reverberates in his head, rumbles like a thunder. Remains trapped between the meningeal membranes.

_Magnus is on the ground._

_On the ground._

_On the ground._

And there’s again that little part of him, the one that never stops worrying about certain trifles, flashes something different in his head. _He’ll catch a cold, there on the ground_.

 

His heart makes something particularly unpleasant, a sort of leap that takes his breath away, scratching his throat and rupturing his alveoli. And that’s not the usual, that nice jump that his heart makes when Magnus looks at him a bit more intensely, or smiles just enough to take his breath away, or when he uses that husky voice to make some innuendos.

Or when he says he loves him.

Here, no, this one it isn’t a pleasant feeling. _Not at all_. And more than anything else it gives him a sense of nausea and discouragement.

Because Magnus is on the ground. _Disarranged_. In a decidedly unnatural position. And he wears oddly monochromatic clothes, a _white_ jacket with a hood and a pair of trousers that are perhaps a little too wide for him, because he looks like some sort of puppet whose strings were cut and fell down. _On the ground_.

And it’s all white.

_Too white_.

_White._

_White._

_White._

Alec still slams against the window with his hand and this time the glass seems to respond to the blow, because it vibrates frighteningly and at a corner, right where there is the frame of the French window, that glass actually seems to have just cracked.

And something passes through the antechamber of his brain for a moment, nothing more. Without getting entangled between the meningeal walls. And he doesn’t give weight to that discomforting information that has crossed his head, rather he tries not to notice that strange emotion that has gathered in his chest, because Alec has other priorities. Magnus. Because Magnus is out there on the ground and he has to help him.

_He has to._

He decides to try again with the handle of the window and, with his total surprise and incredible relief it opens.

The discomforting feeling, however, is still there. That boils in his stomach and makes his heart bounce against his rib cage.

And while he reduces the space that divides him from Magnus, with rapid and wide movements, the sensation becomes more palpable. And he makes his stomach turn, his skin crawl.

Because when he calls him, Magnus doesn’t answer. And he’s incredibly still, still on the ground. In that unnatural position.

 

Alec has always been an extremely methodical type.

Having a parabatai like Jace, who is a hot head imposes him, not to say forces, to proceed by points because otherwise everything can go to hell in less than a second.

And he has always been a model of integrity, Alec, even before having Jace as a parabatai. A calm person who calculates every single move. The discipline is essential to warriors, especially those who use a bow and arrows as a weapon. Because they need to notice every little detail from afar, it takes attention and it’s vital to keep the eyes on the target and always, always, always look at the heart of the problem. Every little detail is important, and acquires even more importance in the whole sight of everything in which it is inserted.

Thus, with a warrior coldness, as an archer, though his body and his heart move quickly to rescue Magnus, a part of him is analysing the surroundings. His warrior brain is evaluating what he sees with an inexplicable coldness, something that, being honest, makes him sick.

It’s all too still, for his taste.

Magnus is a noisy type, cheerful, even when he’s hurt, but is particularly quiet now. Now that he should complain about how tired he is, how dirty his clothes are, how his bones hurt, because damn the metaphor that has flashed before in his mind, is so very real: he looks like a puppet whose threads were cut, so disjointed on the ground.

And it’s like looking at himself from the outside. It’s as if that coldness essential to warriors, has given him a third eye and Alec observes himself from the outside, and when he bends to pick up Magnus, it seems that all around, New York, the sky illuminated by those artificial lights and the incessant noise of cars and people moving in that nocturnal space, everything around there, around them seems to be back silent, still and quiet.

And his third eye comes back inside him, because finally his warrior brain has decreed that there are no more dangers there, than the only important thing, his priority, now is Magnus. There, at his fingertips, now.

_Now_.

Now the coldness has disappeared, the coldness that made him ignore the unpleasant feeling that is in his chest, now it has thinned so much to disappear, leaving in its place a river full of emotions that scratches his throat.

And Alec gathers Magnus, then, picks him up in his arms with the delicacy of someone who collects something fragile, broken, and not with the usual passion, with the usual transport, collects him as if he already knew, as if his brain had already communicated with his heart the other decision, the last ordinance.

And his fingers tremble. And Magnus weighs more than usual.

He is immobile.

And perhaps his methodical brain, his critical eye as a warrior, perhaps that part of him notices the weird, strangely static nature of his chest before the others; the total absence of heat, of that sparkling sensation that his skin continually releases, the incessant flow of his magic.

He’s all immobile, there, perfectly broken.

He is still. It doesn’t react to the embrace, it doesn’t react to anything. Neither to his name, nor to his touch.

And Alec calls him in a voice that he can’t even describe. He calls him softly, as he tighten his hold on Magnus.

 

And maybe that’s when the rest of him notice it.

 

 

 

It’s excruciating, what he feels afterwards.

It rips his breath, tearing his whole being apart.

That absence that he can’t even name.

 

And it’s like a dream. No, a nightmare. One of the most horrible, worst nightmares that have ever gone through his most sleepless nights.

The sharp wave of pain that climbs up his spine is searing and digs into his chest an unbridgeable hole.

And perhaps he hears it clearly, the sound of his heart breaking.

Something that has never felt.

Because Magnus is there, but it’s no longer there. He is in his arms but doesn’t move. He doesn’t breathe.

And Alec doesn’t have the courage to look down, under those white fabrics that cover his face. Because he is afraid of seeing another kind white.

Pallor.

Lividity.

He doesn’t have the courage to touch his lips and look for a breath that a part of him, who knows how stronger than the others, already knows won’t find.

 

 

And maybe his screams are heard on the streets.

Perhaps his screams wake up all Greenpoint. All Brooklyn. All New York.

Or maybe he doesn’t shout at all.

Maybe he’s sobbing. Maybe he’s there, weeping, bawling.

And maybe, with a shaky hoarse voice he asks him, he asks Magnus to come back to him. He doesn’t like this kind of jokes.

He doesn’t want to name this thing, he doesn’t want to give a name to what he has in his arms. Giving a name to all this mess means accepting this, making it real.

And it can’t be real.

Because, damn, Magnus is immortal.

Powerful.

Strong.

Lively.

Cheerful.

And it didn’t have to go that way.

 

 

Somehow, Alec came to terms with his end, immortality for him is nothing but a mirage.

He would leave Magnus, but they would have enough time to be happy. To make memories. Loving and loving back with all they had.

Time.

And for a lot of other time, Magnus would have to walk alone, until someone else pushed his way through his heart.

He always knew that he’d stay in Magnus memories, in Magnus heart as long as he lived, but then someone, will love him again. Maybe as much as Alec.

And Alec would never have asked for eternal fidelity, eternal love, he would have wanted it so much, yeah, but he couldn’t ask for it. He would have liked to take a part of Magnus’ heart so much, to always remain there. But he would take away his happiness, haunting him with his memory, with his ghost.

With the memory of a life together.

A life that _now..._

 

 

 

His brain is the first to react.

To force his hands to move to uncover his face from that white hood.

_White_.

Alec doesn’t like white. At all.

_At all_.

And Magnus has always worn bright, cheerful, colourful things like to make him forget the colours of his work, the colours that the Nephilim have learned to hold firm in their lives.

And when he finds his face, when he looks at his face, he just can’t.  

He can’t.

His brain, the methodical part of him, looks at him as his target. Analysing every single detail. His skin his pale, faintly sallow. His hair is shaggy, messy. His heart screams, when he touches the soft white tuft, he didn’t even say how good it looked on him. His eyes are closed, a calm expression on his face. But on the cheeks just beyond the arch of the cheekbones, he has signs of something, like tears encrusted. He isn’t wearing any makeup, and Alec really likes him when he’s natural. but it’s all so weird now. His lips are parted, and are curved in a soft satisfied smile. As if he was planning this all along.

How cruel is Alec’s heart to think something like that.

And he moves his hand to Magnus’ lips, and is so terribly cold.

And he is so tremendously still.

 

Suddenly he stopped shouting. He simply stopped reacting and clenched onto Magnus. Maybe he didn’t even scream. He was just there, crying and calling him with broken, shaky voice.

Maybe, but he’s not really sure, he’s sobbing.

And he just wants to go back to bed and forget everything.

Wake up from that nightmare in the arms of the man he loves. Kiss him awake and talk.

_Talk._

_Talk._

_Talk._

He just wants to hear his voice. To hear his comforting voice and the touch, the sparkling touch of his magic.

 

But he is there, on the ground, with Magnus in his arms, and he can no longer make a coherent thought.

Not even a coherent thought.

And his brain now seems off.

Shut down.

 

 

And he doesn’t notice the rain, that starts to pour copiously, that bathes his clothes and hair, and wipes away his tears, and covers his sobs.

He doesn’t have the courage to look him in the face more than that. He just squeezes him and maybe he says something.

Maybe he says something. Maybe he calls him. He begs him to come back to him.

Or maybe it’s just the voice in his head. That voice that keeps shouting _stay with me_ , _stay with me_.

 

And he doesn’t even notice that someone else is there.

That someone else has arrived all out of breath and with a couple of shoves has unhinged the door.

Alec is simply there.

Sobbing, squeezing a little more Magnus to himself. Tugging him closer and trying to forget how cold, how still he is.

And he doesn’t even hear the voice, that voice calling him, trying to call his attention.

 

 

 

It’s as if his whole world went still.

All annihilated.

All finished.

All ended.

But the world is still spinning. The Earth still turns on itself. The rain is falling and New York is still unmindful of the usual dangers that afflict the Mundanes. There is still the roar of traffic, there is still noise, and the lights of the buildings that stand on the other side of the road, beyond the balcony, are still lit.

But his world is over.

 

He is alone.

_He is alone in the world_.

 

 

 

And suddenly he feels weak, like when he gives him all his strength. Maybe he had to do it before, maybe he just had to give him his energy.

And then something, something makes him lose consciousness.

And his eyes get lost.

In the dark.

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed it,  
> please let me know if you've found some mistakes, or misspelling!  
> If you liked it please live a kudo or a comment, or bookmark or whatever, I'll give you my uncoditional love regardless.  
> Thank you!


	2. An Empty Shell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> «He’s breathing, I’m telling you.» and he says it with a naturalness that takes Alec’s breath away.  
> And he moves his hand to Magnus’ lips and finally, only now he really feel that thin, very feeble warm breath.  
> Alec’s heart makes that dive again, that very pleasant dive.  
> He breathes.  
> Magnus.  
> Magnus breathes.  
> God.  
> God.  
> He breathes.  
> And Alec hugs him more tightly, kisses him on the forehead. And hot and reassuring tears come to his eyes. The sound is back and if he could hear well, he could also hear that very soft beat. That ba-thump booming feeble in Magnus’ ribcage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are with the second chapter!  
> Sorry, I've planned to add the new chapter sooner but something (a lot of shit) came up and hit me like a whole mountain crashing onto my shoulders. For example a sudden storm has soaked my **waterproof** bag so bad that one of my laptops god drowned. Yeah. And I'm working for free (like no payment at all) to 5 projects at the same time. Yay... and it's been my birthday, and I didn't even have the time to party. (But my friends made me one of the most beautiful presents in the world! A customed Monopoly with our photos! My dad's selfies as the stations)...  
>  Alright, I'm digressing, so, yeah here comes the chapter.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It’s a fraught sensation, the one of the emptiness that digs into him.

Paradoxical, right?

Loneliness, that silent and yet so dangerously real absence, should only have the ancient and bitter taste of absolute nothingness. Instead it’s a sensation so real, solid with that whirlwind of emotions.

It’s so palpable, so real, so atrocious.

And perhaps, before the rune burns on his side with its impudent sense of security, Alec has already realized that Jace is there.

And maybe he wouldn’t want to be seen that way.

Broken.

Crushed.

Shattered even if whole.

Maybe he wouldn’t want to be seen like that, not even by his parabatai.

And yes, he feels Jace’s presence, but it’s as if the whole world, even though it is running, even though it’s still existing, it’s as if the whole world is annihilated. And he remained alone, with Magnus in his arms.

Two empty shells.

 

The silence in which he now lives is a silence of the mind. It’s a white silence yet dark, blind, of those who give up, those who have nothing more to see, nothing more to listen to, nothing more to live, nothing more to live for, to fight for.

It’s the white silence of mourning.

And his world is over. It isn’t the rhetorical price that describes his world so, not because Magnus is his world, which is also the truth to be honest, but it’s because in the world, Magnus is gone. And it’s not worth living in a world like that, in a world where Magnus _doesn’t_ ─

The most important thing of all this, the thing he hurts the most is that all that emptiness, that palpable white and blind silence, is that if he’d never met Magnus, if he’d never seen what it means to love like that, and being loved like that, his world would be empty anyway. Of a different emptiness but, in any case empty.

And his eyes are lost, in that white and blind silence, everything is annihilated. As if the days, the months, the years, the time itself no longer counted. And the time they lost, with useless bickering, with those useless fears of trying and being hurt, will never come back.

Never again.

Never again.

And perhaps he is crying, perhaps he’s sobbing, or perhaps he’s already floating towards a cold unconsciousness, towards a torpor that isn’t welcoming at all.

 

 

And it’s only when Jace’s hand squeezes his shoulder that Alec seems to come back to himself.

He looks up and, perhaps, in all his life he has never seen that face, those eyes, wide in that expression contrite and upset together. That look in his eyes seems to want to give him support, seems to want to ask questions and at the same time seems to have already understood the whole situation.

Parabatai.

And Alec maybe moves his lips. Perhaps he can say something, but his voice is a dull whisper, which clashes in that white silence. Or maybe, he doesn’t say anything, because saying it aloud, what his heart now knows, what his brain has tried to analyze, means to make it true, palpable. Inescapable.

And Jace collapses to the ground next to him, and puts his hand behind his neck. The pouring rain now slaps his skin. And he only realizes it when, that warm hand rests on the nut of his neck, that damn, he is half naked. And it rains. And everything is soaking wet.

«Alec?» Jace’s voice echoes somewhere in the near distance, and is strong enough, close enough to make him wince. « _Alec_?».

And he just tightens Magnus against his chest.

«Alec will you let me help you?» he asks softly.

And Jace has that strange tone, the one he uses only to reassure Clary, the one that he only uses a few times, when he manages to shake off his hard-shelled being, that warrior-like arrogance. And it’s clear from that voice, from that tone there, that Jace has already understood everything, has perceived through their bond what has happened. And Alec is afraid, terrified that Jace will say it aloud, that what is in his arms is just an empty shell.

«Alec, let’s bring him in, and call Catarina, she will help him.» he murmurs. «Maybe we need to dry ourselves a bit».

And Alec looks at him now. Only now. Jace has the look of those who ran there from afar, it’s all wet and his hair doesn’t have anything of the usual shine he’s so proud of. He seems worried, he _is_ worried.

«We can also stay here if you do not want to go inside, it’s okay to stay here. But... I have to understand what happened, we have to help Magnus, right?».

But he only squeezes Magnus more against himself. And maybe he shakes his head and just moves. Maybe he’s swinging, sinking his face again in Magnus’ wet hair.

«Alec, please.» Jace reiterates. «You can’t stay out here, you two…».

And that tone is so unusual, so absolutely sweet and charitable, that it sounds like the admission of the situation. Of the current situation. It’s like something to fix, Alec, it’s like a cup fallen on the ground, that needs all the care in the world, all the attention in the world to be handled.

«Do you want to tell me at least what happened?».

And Alec this time is well aware of shaking his head. Because he doesn’t know what happened. He knows only what is the result of all this big mess. Of this shitty situation.

«Alec, I’ll call Catarina now, then I’ll come back and help you get him inside. You dry yourself a bit and maybe you dress again, and then we try to understand what happened, okay?».

And he doesn’t answer, because it won’t change anything, because Magnus is there in his arms and doesn’t react, is empty and immobile. He only hears Jace walk away for a moment to call Catarina. And thinking about it, Alec doesn’t know how he found the number. But it doesn’t matter, that won’t change anything.

And he just focuses on Magnus, on the total immobility of his body under those fabrics wet with rain, because he doesn’t want to hear how excitedly Jace will talk with Catarina, what words he will use, he does not want to feel the impact, the slap in the face, of raw reality.

But then he hears him, he hears those words, and his heart makes a strange dive, something vaguely less atrocious, almost reassuring.

«He’s breathing, I’m telling you.» and he says it with a naturalness that takes Alec’s breath away.

And he moves his hand to Magnus’ lips and finally, only now he really feel that thin, very feeble warm breath.

Alec’s heart makes that dive again, that very pleasant dive.

He breathes.

_Magnus._

Magnus breathes.

God.

_God._

He breathes.

And Alec hugs him more tightly, kisses him on the forehead. And hot and reassuring tears come to his eyes. The sound is back and if he could hear well, he could also hear that very soft beat. That _ba-thump_ booming feeble in Magnus’ ribcage.

He breathes. His heart is pulsing. He is alive. He’s still alive.

And an unexpected happiness collapses on him like a boulder. And his heart tries to ignore how pessimistic his nature is, because, damn it, Magnus is still alive and Alec was already giving him up for dead. What an asshole. But now he has no time to think about it. Now they just have to help Magnus.

«Alec?» Jace sputters, returning in his field of vision. «We bring him inside? So we dry ourselves all a little?».

And he nods, this time, without saying a word. And he stands up, taking Magnus with him, in a gesture that should normally be fluid, and instead makes him wobble. If there wasn’t Jace there, to support him, he would probably have collapsed on the ground again.

«Hey, I’m here, I’m here... I can help you.» his parabatai grumbles. «Do you want to give him to me? You’re exhausted, Alec…».

But he shakes his head and as soon as he feels his knees secure his position he moves one step and then another towards the French windows.

And there isn’t even time to return inside, that Catarina is already in the living room, the magic whirlpool of the portal is closing behind her. She’s bent over the table, a vial in one hand and a letter in the other. A letter addressed to Alec, the calligraphy is Magnus’. And he can’t understand her expression, which seems upset, but above all particularly angry.

And maybe he wants to ask questions, or maybe he has other priorities.

He certainly has other priorities.

They have to help Magnus.

And Alec hurries to put him down on the couch, to allow Catarina to do her magic, to fix the situation. And it’s a terrible separation, even if he’s only leaving him there, a few steps away from his arms, on the sofa.

But as soon as Alec leaves him, Magnus seems to gasp, the breath coming out of his mouth scratches his throat. And his chest gets up and down convulsively, as if his breath were failing, as if the lungs were contracting unladen and painfully.

Alec’s heart does that leap again, that unpleasant and frightening, the one that takes his breath away and makes his knees melt. And he is terrified, and so he does the only thing possible, the only thing he can think of, he stretches to raise Magnus’ head just to make him breathe a little better, a little better.

And maybe it’s the movement, too hasty, too fast, but as soon as Magnus breathes a bit better, just enough to get Alec’s heart back in place, Alec feels his head spinning and his legs can’t hold him anymore.

«God. » he hears Catarina mutter in the near distance. «What did you do?».

_What did he do?_

But he doesn’t have time to think, he doesn’t have time to do anything, not even to say a word and for a moment, just a moment, it’s all dark and if there wasn’t Jace behind him to support him, he would fall behind.

«I told you, he’s exhausted.» Jace mutters, in a sharp tone. «Instead of grumbling you could help Magnus, what do you think?».

And Alec has his eyes fixed on Magnus again, concentrating on him, on every single little detail, and on the light rising and lowering of his chest, on the breath that now comes out silently with half-open lips, but he’s so damn pale. So horribly still and pale. However at least he breathes.

And this is what matters most.

«I can not help him.» Catarina replies, the tone is heavy, but it’s not decided at all, in fact her voice trembles a bit. «I don’t know why he’s alive, but it certainly depends on Alec».

And Alec maybe opens his mouth, maybe wants to ask that question. Maybe he wants to know. Or perhaps it’s enough for him to know that Magnus is alive, that his heart is beating and he’s breathing.

And then, he simply doesn’t have the strength for anything else, not even for thinking and for another whole moment his eyes are lost.

 

 

 

It is the soft glow of Catarina’s magic, the burning of the stamina rune that itches on his skin to lift him from that numbness.

Alec still has his hand behind the back of Magnus’ neck, and the Warlock is breathing slowly. And it’s the most reassuring thing that can exist, right now. He breathes.

And Alec wait in silence, because there is Catarina here with them and the situation certainly will improve. Jace is behind him, holding his torso against his chest, and holding his arm firmly under Magnus’ neck, he seems to want to give him even more support in all this.

Now everything is clearer. The stamina rune is doing its job.

Catarina’s magic moves in a cloud of iridescent dust, seems to be probing Magnus’ conditions. The woman has a concentrated face, contracted in a very serious expression, very attentive.

There are noises, voices of people. And suddenly he realizes that Catarina is talking, but maybe he doesn’t hear well, his ears are ringing with exhaustion.

«I can’t understand what you mean, seriously.» Jace says, the stentorian voice of his parabatai rumbles in Alec’s back.

And Catarina looks up right into Alec’s eyes, and shakes her head slowly, her lips tight.

Words aren’t necessary, Alec already knew. But knowing it and seeing it slapped right in the face are two very different things. His heart breaks a little more, as if it were possible. And it’s all truer, all the more painful and palpable. Because there is no way to help him, there is no way to help him. And a part of him thanks her for not saying it out loud.

«I mean, I mean, he breathes, right?» Jace goes on.

«It’s complicated.» Catarina murmurs, and she looks at him for another long moment, her eyes seem to tell him she’s sorry, before returning to observe Magnus, before returning to let the iridescent smoke of her magic slip on her lifelong friend.

«I want to understand. We can help him, right? If his heart beats we have time, no?».

«I mean that Magnus _is_... it’s too late for him.» she growls, but her voice still trembles. «I don’t know how to explain it differently: Magnus is just an empty shell, now».

And Alec’s heart makes that jump again, that horrible, painful leap. And this time, however, arrives at its final destination and breaks into a thousand pieces. And maybe his heart no longer beats. It just cries, all his body cries, without even giving a breath.

And Jace tightens his grip on Alec, a grip that Alec objectively doesn’t want. Because he wants to remember how Magnus clings to him, how Magnus embraced him just a while ago, while they were in bed. Not this. Not this empty. He doesn’t want Jace’s arms on him. But maybe he doesn’t have the courage to make any moves, maybe he just wants to stay there and try to understand. To hope. A little bit.

«I liked your first explanation better. He breathes, right? His heart beats. I can’t understand why you say he’s just an empty shell. He just needs to replenish his magic, right? That’s all.» his parabatai mumbles again, his voice now seems more uncertain, less strong. «And I would ask you to use different words because Alec could... _heck_ ».

He must have noticed that he is listening. Perhaps the rune has warned Jace of all the pain that his body, his heart and his brain are trying to deny.

«He breathes, yes...» Alec murmurs, and he’s more or less aware of how much his  voice comes out hoarse and weak. «But that’s not enough, that’s what she means, Jace».

And Jace just tugs him closer, shaking his head. «No. No. He breathes. He breathes. It means that he is alive. That’s it, if you have to see if one is alive the first thing you check is if he breathes, right? His heart beats, so he is alive».

And Alec thanks the sky, God, the Angel or whatever, that he exists, his parabatai, and that somehow he ended up in his life and became an inseparable companion, because he gives voice to those words that his heart cries, that his brain is denying. Because he has a strange innocence, Jace, the innocence of the hot heads, of those who despite everything see the bright side.

«Jace...» he mumbles again, and is afraid to say it out loud, because to say it out loud means to admit reality. Accept this harsh and hard reality.

But his parabatai interrupts him. «Can’t you find a solution, Catarina? Can we find a way to help him? I don’t know, in the last resort we could... we could ask his father, hm?».

And Alec gouges his eyes, he had not thought about it. His father is a powerful demon, one of the most feared, a Prince of Hell. Yet Magnus would rather die than ask his father for help.

«Magnus…» Catarina murmurs, her voice trembling as she shakes her head in disarray. «Or rather, his body is alive only because Alec is giving him his energy. He’s no longer here. Death took him away».

It’s a moment. And the nausea takes the upper hand of his body, a dizziness of terror, and that horrible consciousness weighs on him strongly. It digs under his skin.

He hadn’t noticed it, but maybe it’s true, maybe it’s true that he’s giving him his energy. Perhaps his desire to keep Magnus alive, with him, is the only thing his body, before his brain, thought: he tried to bring him back.

«Do you know what happened?» Alec asks quietly, his voice trembling, but it’s heavy enough to overcome Jace’s protests, whose voice sounds like a distant echo that keeps saying it’s impossible. Impossible. _Impossible_.

And she nods softly and looks at him guiltily. «Jace, you should do me the favor of going to get some clothes at Alec, alright? He must get dressed or he will get sick...».

But for a moment Jace seems to hesitate, his eyes travel between Alec and Catarina a couple of times, before remaining fixed on his parabatai. «I’ll leave you here, mh? Can you sit a bit straight while I’m going to look for clothes?» and he just waits for a nod from him and then flies away to the bedroom.

With a wave of her hand, Catarina closes the door behind Jace’s shoulders. And this, combined with the request just a little earlier, makes it clear to Alec that she wants to talk to him alone. And maybe something in him snaps and moves quickly to tell her that she can tell everything to his parabatai too.

But she doesn’t give him time to talk. «You asked Magnus to save Jace the other night, did’t you?».

And that question is enough to take his breath away again. _No. No. No. It can’t be. It can’t be_. And he feels his eyes burn. No, it can’t be that Magnus is in these conditions, that he’s there on that couch between life and death for that request that he has done on other occasions. Too many occasions.

«I wanted to talk to you about... it’s not your fault, nor Jace’s.» the woman sighs, stopping the hand that gently lets the magic cloud slip on her lifelong friend. «Magnus has always been a the self-sacrificing type of guy.» she murmurs with a bitter smile on her lips. «It was too late last night, Alec. For Jace, I mean... maybe, maybe the rune didn’t have time to disappear, but... he, Jace, was dead».

And this information invests him like a train, and it hurts. And it’s badly comparable to the pain he felt yesterday, while the rune seemed to want to disappear from his side, burning like crazy. His heart is stuck in his throat, and it beats so hard that it echoes in his ears. He asked Magnus to save Jace. And he begged and cried and maybe Magnus used too much magic, too much magic to bring him back and this… this is all his fault.

It’s his fault.

It’s his fault.

And Alec finds the voice to say only an obviousness. «You can’t bring back... _the dead_.» he mutters in his trembling voice. «Magnus doesn’t... he doesn’t use necromancy, _he doesn’t_... _he couldn’t─_ ».

«Jace’s soul had not yet left, I suppose... the parabatai rune kept it bonded here enough for Magnus to use... what is called an ancestral power, and his is enormous because he is Asmodeus son...» she murmurs. «And he managed to save him, like that, using the ancestral power… but while Jace recovered color, let’s put it this way ... the Angel Azrael appeared».

And Alec swallows twice, thickly, and his breath itches in his throat. He’s lost all his words. He has so much questions to ask, so much thing to know, but he just can’t voice anything.

«It’s just a legend.» someone says behind him. And the voice is unmistakable, Jace’s voice. «I’ve took the clothes that were on the floor…».

And Alec turns to him and actually Jace his there his shirt and trousers in his hands. And suddenly Alec has blood freezing in his veins, and not because presumably Jace has heard everything and has a burning sense of guilt in his body, not only at least, but because his parabatai is holding the box. That little velvett box that has always been in his pocket for months now. Because he never had time to put that damn ring on Magnus’ finger, he never found the right opportunity, the right moment. And Jace looks at him in shock, maybe both for the news and for that ring.

Catarina snorts loudly. «Let me understand, the legends are true only whenever you want?!» she asks quietly. «Raziel is fine, Azrael isn’t?».

«Go on.» Alec murmurs, turning back to her, trying to ignore Jace’s gaze burning his neck.

«As far as Magnus told me, Azrael wanted a trade, a big one. Because he had come to take Jace’s life...» and saying this she looks at Jace for a moment «and Magnus got in the way. And you know, he told me this with a satisfied smile on his face…» she shrugs with a snort. «It seems Azrael have told him that... he wanted something of the same weight as Jace’s life, the life of a Nephilim, a life more like his».

« _My life_?» Alec asks slowly, in a whisper. And it is a certainty more than a question. His life is more like Jace’s, because he is his parabatai.

And Catarina nods, and has red eyes veiled by tears. «Magnus said that... that he could not allow it and offered him his life.» and now she shakes her head. «He told me that Azrael objected, that your lives are worth differently, weight differently. That perhaps the price was not adequate... but the Angel still acquiesced, and gave him one more day to prepare... an extra opportunity...».

His life. Magnus gave his life away to save Alec’s. And tears weigh at the corners of his eyes, burning his lacrimal duct. He clenches his jaw and doesn’t even look down at that motionless form, at the love of his life. «Why? He knows that I will die one day... I’m merely a butterfly in his life…».

«He loves you, Alec.» Jace says, and now is voice comes trembling in his ears. «He loves you, these are the things you do when... when you’re in love, right?».

And Alec nods. He knows that he loves him, that Magnus loves him perhaps even more than Alec is even capable to. But of course, this doesn’t relieve the sense of guilt that weighs on him, that digs into him and takes his breath away.

«He didn’t want me to tell you anything, and judging from that potion... he wants you to forget all this, he wants you to forget about him...» Catarina murmurs pointing randomly to something on the coffee table, the vial she had in hand before. «I think he wants you to go on, in the future... that, when you’re ready you... drink all the potion and...» the words die in her throat, and she shakes her head.

And something breaks. The sound of his broken heart becomes even stronger. Magnus wants him to forget about him and their love. As if this were possible, even magic couldn’t erase it. And maybe a part of him can understand why that choice, that potion: to make him go on, but there is all the rest of him that engulfs this awareness in a whirlwind of anger and pain. More pain than anger. Because Magnus has consciously chosen to give his life away to save Alec’s and Jace’s. Save the life of people who would be nothing but a blink of an eye in his life. And maybe he wants to say something, but Jace’s stentorian voice precedes him.

«What can we do for him? He’s alive and breathing, isn’t he?» he asks. «I don’t know, we can summon Azrael and give him something else in return, he still has time, if he breathes... we can ask Asmodeus… we can… it’s against the rules but we… we could─I don’t know…».

«No. Magnus’s body is alive because Alec is giving him his energy, his strength» Catarina sighs and shakes her head again, her voice trembles and his eyes are veiled. «He isn’t here anymore. He’s an empty shell and... I’m sorry, Alec… really» and it goes out like a hiss, a long deep sigh empties her lungs, as if it was difficult to get out this last thing and maybe there is the tension of those who would say something else in her voice.

And again this information is a slap in the face, a train running at full speed on him, is a mighty rock that collapses on him and crushes him down, and squeezes away his breath and shatters his heart.

And maybe he’s sobbing. Maybe he’s screaming. Maybe… _maybe_ …

And he just wants to go back to bed and forget everything, go back and plan the right time to give him that fucking ring and wait for his reaction.

He just wants to hear his voice and... he just wants to be with him. Just this. It is not too much to ask.

But Catarina still speaks in a low, shaky voice. «Magnus loves you, Alec. And I know that you love him but as much but... you have to...» she pauses, swallowing thickly. «You have let him go, you have to let him go and… rest in peace».

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I say I may be a bit cruel, here it is, my cruelty.  
> And yeah, one more to go... you'll see what will come next in a couple of days if I'm lucky enough to have a bit of free time to adjust the third chapter, before going in a work-update-congress-trip out of Rome, I will post the next chapter by the end of next week.  
> Thank you for reading so far, leave a comment, a kudo or come say hello [here](https://lamalefix.tumblr.com/)  
> :D


	3. One last long goodbye

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He stays silent a little longer. A little bit longer.  
> And watches Magnus, who lies on that bed motionless and pale, and tries to picture a future without him. A life without him. And instead of spreading this infinite possibility of a unhappy future before his very eyes, his heart, his brain have decided to give him one last vision of a happy life. A long, long, happy life with Magnus beside him. He’s all grey and old, a bit curved and senile, and Magnus is just perfect, maybe he wears a glamour to not look like his grand-nephew. And tears burn at the corner of his eyes, as he watches the love of his life withering there. Breathing and living only because he’s giving him his strength.  
> And now he’s alone, and takes Magnus’ hand again to his lips, and kisses its back slowly. He isn’t ready. He’ll never be, but he has to do it. He has to let him go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, here we are!  
> I'm a tad later than what I planned... but I was really too much busy the past week, and with the congress and coming home late for work I didn't have the time to edit this final chapter till this morning, so here we are.  
> Thank you for all your feedback.  
> See you at the end notes with a little sneak peek from the third part of this series.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

He must let him go.

He must let him go.

He must let him go.

This is what he’s been repeating himself for days. Days. And he is just so exhausted, and people come in and out of their house, of their bedroom as if nothing had happened. Of course, they try to support him, to find a way to make him metabolize the situation. To help him. To help him choose.

 _He must let him go_.

But no. No. No. No. Of course, he can’t do it. He can’t leave his hand, he simply can’t. Letting him go would mean to be practically the cause of his death.

The material cause of his death.

And it’s been days, five whole days that he broods over this whole situation: letting him go doesn’t just mean killing him, materially. It means making a choice. A choice that isn’t up to him.

And there must be a solution. Absolutely. And a whole series of things have passed into his mind, a whole long list of things he’d like to tell him, and that he’d say in general, words to oppose this horrible eventuality. But in the end, he just asked for a little bit of time.

Just a little more time.

A bit of time to understand.

To understand how to live without him. To understand how to let him go. Because losing him, losing him would mean losing himself a little too.

And it’s been days, yeah. And he simply stays there, near Magnus. And people come and go, and talk so much.

At some point, even his mother popped up in there. She seemed concerned, and came to talk to him, to give him strength to tell him that, for better or for worse, everything will settle. But maybe he didn’t hear those words too. Catarina goes back and forth, checking their physical situation, Magnus’ at least hasn’t changed. Alec’s did change, and he can feel it. He feels exhausted and even the effect of the stamina rune begins to fade faster, it’s a proof. He is exhausted. But besides that and that huge absence, he doesn’t feel anything else.

Every now and then Jace or Isabelle sit near Magnus, and insist on letting him take a break, let him grab a bite and maybe take a quick shower. And, at first, before leaving Magnus alone with one of his siblings, he made sure that the situation didn’t change, that Magnus would continue to breathe even without his presence nearby. But only when Alec sits back there, near him, and takes his hand in his, only then he can define himself secure. Only then he can breathe easy. More easy. Even if Magnus doesn’t move. But that’s enough.

And there’s a whole lot of things in his mind, a lot of words he’d like to say, even without talking to Magnus. He wants to hear his voice. To be able to talk to him just one last time. Tell him that he’s sorry. Tell him that he never wanted to choose Jace over him. That he couldn’t never wish, never, want to let him go. Being him the material cause of his death.

And while he was in the bathroom, yesterday maybe, and he was looking in the mirror those deep dark circles under his eyes and the pallor of one who has a foot in the pit, he remembered that he actually has many many videos. Hundreds of videos with Magnus as the main focus.

And as soon as he returned to their room and fished his phone in the meanderings of some abandoned jacket around there, and after having chased away his siblings and took the place next to Magnus and took his pale cold hand in his, he opened the gallery and found all those videos and maybe thousands of photos.

Magnus, and this always made him blush impudently, calls that huge monothematic gallery his folder for masturbation. Yep. And usually Alec complained every time because he certainly doesn’t need a video of Magnus, more or less dressed (and catchy as always) to get to that point there. The videos were for something else, were meant for another purpose.

But he hasn’t yet found the courage to see them. But he remembers more or less what’s in each one.

For example, in the first, the very first, there is Magnus, just awake and decidedly sulky because Alec perfectly remembers having made a nice raspberry under his neck to wake him up. First he was kissing him and then suddenly he wanted to make him a rascal raspberry, what could he do? And Magnus had sworn with his voice thick with sleep, but definitely deep and demonic, something very similar to “Don’t make me curse you, Lightwood”. And then he noticed the phone and snorted something else like “What? Do you want to register while we do stuff? Because maybe I’m not in the mood. You must first make yourself forgive for this huge snub!”. And then maybe, but only maybe, Alec had dropped the phone and stopped the registration, because certainly there had been a certain session between the sheets shortly after.

He doesn’t dare to see them, those videos. He doesn’t want to take a dip in a happy life. Even just for the duration of a video because Magnus is there, inert, motionless and pale, pale as never before. He’s there and is just a step away from his end.

And so, Alec tightens the grip on his hand, brings it to his lips and just kisses his frozen knuckles. The only noise in the room is Magnus’ slow breath.

And then he leans his head next to him, close to his side with half-closed eyes, maybe trying to sleep just to get rid of that fatigue, he suddenly hears it.

He hears his voice.

_Hey darling._

And Alec pulls himself up in a moment and looks around, Magnus’ eyes are closed, of course, he has’t moved.

_I see, you’re recording…_

And Alec looks down at his phone screen and sees it. A Magnus who looks at him, half naked, in boxer and apron busy at the stove.

_Why don’t you talk? Do you want me to talk? Really Alexander, I can open a portal and come to Idris if you miss me so much..._

He seems amused, and the sound of his light chuckle makes Alec’s heart bleed, break.

_I can talk for hours just to please you but… but if you want I can make you a little show... if you insist..._

And Alec hears himself laughing, one of those embarrassed laughs while on the screen Magnus shakes his hips with the spatula in his hand. And then he laughs too, head backwards and all.

_Come on, let me finish here or I’ll burn the eggs. Just one of us is enough to mess up in the kitchen..._

And on the screen Magnus stretches out and looks at him, as if watching him, in flesh and blood on the other side of the phone. The eyes of that incredible colour that vibrate on him.

_I love you, Alexander. But now I really have to make breakfast, or we’ll be late._

And Magnus smiles so softly, so dearly at him before the video stops.

And Alec crouches again and tries to ignore his sobs, those that make his shoulders shake. And try to forget the oppressive feeling of the tears that burn at the corner of his eyes. And he thought he had already cried enough.

It hurts so much. So damn bad.

And he is used to pain, accustomed to the horrible pain of battles, demon venom and wounds. But this is a different pain, a pain you can never get used to.

The pain of absence.

 

The videos were meant to make him remember Magnus.

Because one day, he’ll get old and his memory will go to hell and he’ll need to have something, some material. Because he wanted to remember Magnus as long as he had life. Remember how happy he was. How happy they were. And now instead those memories, which he wanted to preserve so jealously, dig a black pit, a mass grave without bottom inside the heart. And then he throws the phone to the ground with a sudden gesture of his hand. And he crouches better, his head close to Magnus’ hip and his hand, that icy hand in his.

And maybe he’s sobbing.

 

 

 

It’s a coming and going of people. That house.

At one point, he is not sure when, Simon brought some kind of comfort food cooked by his mother, something with a name too long for his tastes, and that certainly didn’t meet his mouth. Because even the idea of eating something makes him sick.

His mother also came, and maybe it was yesterday, or maybe it was the day before. She just took a sit there near him in absolute silence, after having said some nonsense of circumstance. They didn’t speak much, they didn’t even say goodbye. She just sat next to him and ran a hand through his hair, trying to comfort him.

Maybe she’s still nearby, around New York. Or maybe she’s taken over the reins of the Institute since Jace is more and more often at the apartment.

Clary, too, comes every so often, she, like Simon, couldn’t shut up and told him, with this voice flickering and broken by some small sobs that she’ so sorry. So sorry.

But no one, no one, maybe not even Jace can imagine how bad it actually is. How the hell it hurts. An impossible badly.

It’s like a kick in the chest, it’s like a punch in the stomach, it’s like having broken bones and not being able to breathe, it’s like an open wound on which someone has poured salt, it’s like the scratch of the most venomous demon, the bite of the most rabid werewolf, or of the hungriest vampire. It’s all this and yet it’s not even that alone. It’s an inner pain. Incurable. Which has a name, a creepy and startling name. That has the outlines of this horrible sense of absence, and has the smell of rain and the dull sound of a hollow chest, in which beats a dying heart.

It’s the mourning, the bereavement.

A grief that isn’t real yet.

Because, damn, Magnus’ heart is beating, it’s beating. And his lungs contract and expand each time air comes in and out. Still, his is an empty body.

They can’t understand, and a part of him thanks heaven. And he hopes that none of his loved ones, but also none of the most detestable people he has ever known, should feel all this emptiness, all this unmentionable pain.

Because nobody must feel that situation weigh on him, no one should feel the horrible weight of having to let go, of having to let go of the beloved person.

And he must let it go.

He must find the courage to leave his hand and allow him to leave, to rest.

And doing this doesn’t mean accepting this end, his heart will never have peace, never. He will never be able to live without him.

It’s only a duty, an unthinkable and heavy, crucial and fatal burden. To be in effect the material cause of his death.

 

 

 

And Alec’s there. And it’s been days and he’s been there for days.

In the absolutely unsettling intimacy of their bedroom. To keep company to an empty shell. To the love, to his only true love, which lies there simply abandoned on the bed and that he breathes only because Alec is giving him strength. Something that he didn’t even realize he was doing, giving him energy, perhaps because it was the only thing he could think of, or perhaps because his body acted before any thought.

Before any thought, he decided to give him all his strength, all his energy.

Everything he can give him.

Everything he can.

Everything he has.

Yet, his body begins to feel an unspeakable, indescribable fatigue. He is exhausted, in the true sense of the word. And he’s begun to empty himself too. Even him. And not only because the future that awaits him isn’t what he’s had the audacity to hope, what he’s dreamed from the very first moment when Magnus’ gaze lingered a moment longer on him, but above all because he has hardly any more strength. He no longer has the strength to fight.

And maybe he should ask Jace to activate the stamina rune again, or maybe he should just let go.

Let him go.

And Jace is grumbling, somewhere in the near distance. Not that Alec is listening to him. It’s hours, probably, that he growls. Or at least he seems to be grumbling for hours, but fortunately, Alec only hears his stentorian voice rumbling in his ears. A kind of nonsense mumbling.

He really isn’t interested in listening to him, Alec is far too busy being there, his head sunk by Magnus’ side. His right arm thrown around his waist, his left hand gripping the Warlock’s frozen one.

And he has no more tears to cry, he no longer has the strength to do anything.

And maybe he just wants to annihilate him with Magnus. Ignoring everything else, ignoring his parabatai who is still grumbling something.

Suddenly, Jace’s hand falls relentlessly on his shoulder, shaking him.

«Do you understand me, Alec?» he asks, eyes that look guilty and perhaps hurt.

And Alec might want to nod, disguising an affirmative answer just to get him out of the way.

«You can not go on like this,» Jace murmurs. «I feel that you are exhausted, I feel that you can’t take it anymore...».

«And what would your suggestion be?» Alec asks with an unexpected hatred, finding a voice he thought he’d lost. He prefers his mother, when he sits there beside him in silence, or Isabelle who stays there and talks talks talks, but in a soft tone, without asking him to contribute to the conversation. He even prefers Clary and Simon, who sit there and talk to him about everything and nothing, and tell him about the troubles they screw together.

Then, with a dizziness of terror he realizes that he can’t even bear the sight of his parabatai. The reason why Magnus is there. This whole mess is all Jace’s fault. A part of him, perhaps the most dominant among others, has decided that for a while, he will have to project his guilt on Jace. At least to endure this moment. The other part, the more rational one, knows that Jace wants only his good, he just wants to help. And he is there, present, always present, to help.

«I don’t know. Catarina says we can’t summon Asmodeus.» Jace murmurs.

«Magnus would hate us. To ask for help from his father is wrong, we don’t know what he could ask us, what he could do... I might as well kill him.» Alec answers coldly, without even looking back at him. «And we just don’t need this...».

The silence that falls on the room is almost reassuring, as to make him hope that finally Jace has decided to turn his heels and go back to the Institute.

But suddenly the mattress is lowered, which forces him to lift his head and cut him a look: his parabatai took his place next to them on the bed.

«We’re drifting away, you and me.» Jace buzzes slowly.

And Alec is not even astonished by this statement. It’s the truth. There is no reason to deny it. Perhaps he perceives it clearly, even without the parabatai rune, all that hatred that he’s in his body. Perhaps he’s physically exhausted by all the resentment he feels for Jace. All that rage that he decided to move on to him to survive, at least for a while, his guilt.

«Alec...» he begins to say.

«You should go back to the Institute. Today.» he murmurs. «I want to be alone».

But Jace doesn’t even try to move, stays there and sighs long before reopening his mouth. «Can we talk a moment about the elephant in the room?».

And Alec crushes his tongue on his palate. «I would like to be alone...».

«Alec─» he just babbles. «Please, you can’t keep everything inside...».

«We are drifting apart, yes,» he replies dryly. And he doesn’t have time to close his mouth because then a river full of words overflows horribly from his lips. «I blame you for everything, yes. Even if it’s my fault, because I asked him to save you, because I chose you. I always choose you».

And Jace pulls a sour breath between his clenched teeth.

«I always choose you. And he... he’s dying because of me, because I asked him to save your life. Because I chose you.» he adds, and shakes his head. «And I want to be alone now. I do not need you now. I need him and... and he doesn’t...».

And his parabatai reaches out to him to try to give him a little more comfort.

And Alec pushes his hand aside. «I want to be alone... I have to find the courage to... let him go».

«You don’t have to give up, Alec.» Jace replies. «We can’t give up, we will find a way to help him. Clary and Simon are at the Silent City to look for a way to... to help him and... and─».

And Alec turns, finally, and looks at him with he doesn’t know what expression, but he is sure that the fury he feels inside transpires from his eyes. «Stop it.» he grumbles and returns to look at Magnus for a moment. The long eyelashes that fall apart ajar to mark small rays on the livid circles. He doesn’t have a trick of makeup, and the nail polish has started to crack. Perhaps he must ask Isabelle to fix it. Perhaps, he wants to learn how to do it. Maybe he had to learn how to do it.

«Alec…» he calls again.

He doesn’t even turn around, merely observes Magnus a little longer, squeezes the hold on his hand as if to give himself strength. «That’s enough. Stop it.» he hisses bitterly. And then, and then keeps talking. «Hope hurts. Hope hurts more than this whole situation. He... _he’s gone_ ».

And he is startled, in the instant of subsequent silence, of how easy it was to say it. Although it was raw and horrible. Because now he knows. He knows it’s true. That he’ll never come back and that he just has to leave his hand to let him go. And he is also shocked at the pain that echoes inside, now, as if his heart had become even more empty.

For a moment this revelation, this same revelation that took his breath away, seems to have collapsed on Jace too. «Why are you here, then, why are you trying to keep him alive with your energy?!» he growls angry. «I feel it, what you feel, I feel it».

«It isn’t the same thing.» Alec replies quietly and then with the anger that scratches his throat, looks at him for a moment, furious. «It isn’t the same thing, and this pisses me off even more: because you feel what I feel, but you can’t understand, you can’t understand. Because if you turn around you have Clary who can talk to you. Who can tell you that she loves you and that...» and as anger invades every single millimetre of him, every single cell, the voice comes out thin and cracked, feeble, and returns to look at Magnus and moves his left hand to ruffle a lock of hair from his face. He begins to feel no more mastery of his own fingers. « _I have this._ » he says, and a lump stumbles in his throat. «I have him, and if I leave his hand, he dies... I have him who is not even here anymore. I have him who created a potion to make me forget that I love him... that he was part of my life and... I would love to get angry but... I can’t, because maybe, if I had the same powers, the same potential... I would have done the same. And I can’t get away because I’m not ready. I’m not ready to say goodbye. And I can’t fight anymore... I’m tired and... I would want to fight forever for him but...».

« _Alec_...» Jace begins to say.

And Alec swallows hard, thickly before continuing. «And I know I have to let him go. I know... you have no idea how much I know... how much it hurts» he nods. «I asked him to save you and... to do so he chose to die. To save my life and yours.» he sighs and it hurts even more, to say it. «And I’m angry with you, but... it’s my fault, I chose you».

And Jace puts his hand on his shoulder. «You’re exhausted,» he says simply. And maybe he wanted to say something else, something different. Something more.

«I know.» Alec nods, and a little part of him thanks the world that his parabatai kept all those words to himself.

«Do you want me to activate the stamina rune?» he asks softly.

He shakes his head. «I want you to go, because I’m tired and I couldn’t be able to answer for my actions and for what I’ll tell you».

Jace sighs. «You can let off steam, if you want... you can’t keep everything inside yourself. Get angry with me, vent yourself with me. You can even punch me... _you can_ ─».

«Go away. Because at some point I will need you, and I don’t want to completely harm our bond...» he murmurs, looking at him for a moment. «Go away, please.» he asks gently, and perhaps his voice is like a whisper.

His parabatai rises slowly and moves towards the door. «There’s Isabelle, in the other room. She ordered something to eat and... soon Catarina will arrive to check you...».

«Okay,» he hums.

«Call me if you need me, okay?» Jace mutters and waits for Alec to nod before closing the door behind his back.

And finally, Alec returns to his silence. To be alone with Magnus.

His hands hurt. His whole body hurts, to tell the truth, from the tip of his toes to the end of his hair. And perhaps having said that Magnus is already on the other side could have given him a bit of determination that he’s missing a little.

Hope never dies, hope is hard to die. It’s something integral in the human soul and in the end even those like him, who fail, who love, who struggle every day, are human. And hope is a nectar of life.

But he can’t keep hoping. Because the situation is what it is. And if a powerful Warlock like Catarina can’t help it, neither will the Silent Brothers.

And looking at Magnus just to find another bit of strength, just to have the courage. The courage to let go of his hand and allow him to go.

And it’s the most difficult thing to do.

The most painful thing.

But he still holds his hand for a moment and sighs, as he takes it to his mouth to kiss his knuckles. And he would like to tell him about so many things, he would like to tell him hundreds of thousands of words. But he won’t get an answer anyway and grits his teeth to hold back those heavy thoughts, not to let them fly to the mouth and to say the least.

Magnus sacrificed himself for him and for Jace and anyway they are one step away from losing them too.

And at the very least he should apologize to him for that alone.

And for everything else.

But he can’t even manage to talk to him, because he knows he won’t hear his voice in response. And Magnus won’t hear him.

 

A faint knock on the door solved him from those heavy thoughts.

He does not say anything, he would mumble a half-swear and a request to be left alone, but he prefers to wait.

«Alec, it’s me.» Isabelle murmurs, peeping out of the half-open door. Behind her, can see the blue shades of Catarina’s skin. «We are... we wanted to see─».

And Alec only nods his head, as if to give them permission to interrupt that odd and silent intimacy.

His sister approaches with measured steps, the ticking of her heels on the floor seem to mark the time that passes in that absolute silence.

«How do you feel?» asks Catarina slowly, moving more quickly towards him.

«Tired.» he answers. «You don’t need to come and check me every two hours, anyway. I don’t think I’ll die so soon... you can’t die for heartbreak, right?» he adds bitterly, without looking at them.

Isabelle sighs, one of those sibilant sighs that seem to mask a light sob. «Jace...».

«I sent him away.» he replies hastily, as he hears Catarina’s familiar soft magic slip on him to test his physical situation.

«Yes, I know.» Izzy nods. «I wanted to tell you that…».

« _Alec_...» Catarina murmurs. «We should talk for a moment, okay?».

«I already know. I know I have to let him go.» he grumbles again, and tries not to sound too angry, too irritated by their constant presence, by the constant presence of this painful awareness. By the costant sword of Damocles that hovers over him, that terrible choice that he has to make. «I know».

«That’s not what we wanted to talk to you, Alec,» replies the Warlock.

«Jace told us... about the ring... is that what we think?» Isabelle slurs, the words that tangle in her mouth in a strange way, as if she were afraid to ask that question.

And the breath becomes bitter in Alec’s mouth, in his trachea. It fits between his teeth dense and bitter, like oil. «I guess it depends on what you think».

«It’s the Lightwood ring, isn’t it? Did you want to give it to him?» his sister asks, and maybe her voice is trembling.

«Well... that’s what you do with rings, usually, isn’t it?» he grumbles a bitter smile on his lips. «Anyway, it seems a little late now».

«You would have made him happy, you know?» Catarina whispers. «No one has ever wanted to marry him... and he used to think about it too, sometimes, but he wanted to give you time, all of this is new to you... he said».

And to Alec comes nausea to thought alone. All the resoluteness that he found a few moments ago, with his admission, now vanishes by hearing Magnus’ lifetime friend speak of him in past tense.

Isabelle sits near him. «Alec...».

And he looks for a moment at his sister, who has a sympathetic look but has never said that she understands his pain. And he would never want her to understand it. «I wanted to marry him, yes... I was planning everything... I wanted to take him out to dinner, kneel and take his hand and put the damn ring of my family on his finger. I wanted to surprise him, but of course I would have asked for your help... to choose what to wear, what flowers to take... the words to say...» his voice trembles and dies in his throat and shakes his head and turns his eyes again on Magnus who seems to sleep peacefully on his hands, on the left ring finger where he should stick that metal band that belongs to his family since generations. «But he went away... I wasted precious time...».

«Alec...» Catarina begins to say.

«I don’t know if... I don’t know if I’ll ever be... I do not know if I dare...» he shakes his head and loses his words once more. «But I think I have to do it, right? He... he’s not here anymore».

His sister puts her hand on his shoulder and squeezes it slightly, trying to comfort him. She sighs slowly, and seems to want to hold back another sob.

«Are you ready?» Catarina asks quietly, her eyes fixed on him.

What a stupid question. «Will I ever be?» he murmurs, with a sad and bitter smile on his lips.

Magnus will die if Alec leaves his hand. Magnus will die. Magnus will die. Magnus will die. This is what his head repeats to him, this is the thought that remains entangled in his cerebral cortex, that lingers under his meninge.

Isabelle sniffles. And holds her hand in front of her lips to keep his sobs at bay.

«I will kill him. How could I ever be ready for... for this?» he adds, caressing the back of Magnus’s hand with his thumb. He can’t survive this. He can’t go on. Being him the material cause of his death.

No.

He can’t.

And Magnus is so steady, so damn motionless. And pale. And silent.

He is always so noisy, cheerful, vital even when he remains silent, in that comforting, satisfying silence, everything, every single thing about him, around him shouts out loud his love for life, his joy for life. But now everything is so still, so silent.

«No,» Catarina murmurs, looking him in the eye. Blue eyes against blue eyes. Her gaze crosses it without too many pleasantries, without asking permission, and seems to probe his soul. «No. You’re just letting go of his hand, you’re just stopping to give him strength... he never wanted you to suffer so much, Alec... you’re not killing him, because he─» and she stops suddenly, in the middle of the sentence and looks down, towards Magnus.

Alec knows, he knows so well what she has avoided saying. Because Magnus is impossible to save, is far beyond salvation, because his soul is somewhere far away and will never come back. But knowing it doesn’t mean accepting it.

«I’m letting him go...» he croaks, his voice hoarse due of the sleep deprivation, of sadness, of his broken heart and... _and─_

He’s letting him go. He’s leaving Magnus.

«Brother...» Izzy murmurs.

And Alec squeezes Magnus hand a bit stronger, and with two fingers caresses his pale, cold cheek. «His heart will stop right away, right? When I’ll stop giving him my... I can’t... _I can’t_... he won’t suffer, right? I just can’t─».

I just can’t live without him.

That’s what everyone says, but how can it be actually possible?

He will still live, without Magnus. At least his body will stay alive, breathing, his heart, broken as much as it is, will still beat. But... That doesn’t really mean living. Living is what being with Magnus taught him. What Magnus taught him. Being himself and not only a mere puppet in the hands of the Clave, not only a warrior, but a real being aside of his blood, of his runes, of his weapons. Someone that deserves to love and to be loved.

«I can’t let him go.» he murmurs.

Catarina sits near him. «You’ll die too, this isn’t what he wanted. This is exactly what he wanted to avoid. Don’t make his sacrifice vain, Alec».

He gulps, swallowing thick, hard. His eyes are tired and burn with tears he won’t shed.

Catarina moves her hand on his. «I’ve known him for as long as I can remember, he was, _is_ a terrible lovesick little shit, so damn selfless and stupid. But one thing for sure... He loved no one like he loved you. You made him happy, Alec, really _really_ happy».

And how exactly those words should make him feel any better?

But he doesn’t even notice when the first tear falls. «He makes me happy too,» he murmurs softly, his lips tremble. «I can’t, Cat. I just can’t».

«Let me... Let me help you, Alec. I swear, he won’t suffer. He will... He will simply go.» she hums.

And Alec whimpers and shakes his head. He can’t do this. He just can’t. Not now. Not yet.

«Alec.» the Warlock calls, moving her hand on his shoulder.

And that’s the moment he notices it, the unpleasant weight in his pocket. The ring. That weighs more than his sorrow. And it’s late, and he just wants a moment alone. Alone to gather up the courage. To let him go.

And he drops his head, in a muffled sob. «I need a moment,» he says finally. «Like, alone. I just want to be… alone a bit more».

Catarina hums in consent.

And Isabelle sniffles.

And the two of them take their leave.

He stays silent a little longer. A little bit longer.

And watches Magnus, who lies on that bed motionless and pale, and tries to picture a future without him. A life without him. And instead of spreading this infinite possibility of a unhappy future before his very eyes, his heart, his brain have decided to give him one last vision of a happy life. A long, long, happy life with Magnus beside him. He’s all grey and old, a bit curved and senile, and Magnus is just perfect, maybe he wears a glamour to not look like his grand-nephew. And tears burn at the corner of his eyes, as he watches the love of his life withering there. Breathing and living only because he’s giving him his strength.

And now he’s alone, and takes Magnus’ hand again to his lips, and kisses its back slowly. He isn’t ready. He’ll never be, but he has to do it. He has to let him go.

«I’m not ready, I’ll never be» he says out loud, and this is actually the first time since that fateful night, that he speaks to him. And he doesn’t know how broken his voice may sounds, how much hurt and hoarse it comes out of his lips. «But... But you are so lively, so cheerful... And looking at you being… being like that... They are right, you... _You_ » his words are broken by a loud sob and die at the back of throat.

He can’t do this, he can’t. Magnus won’t answer his words, won’t hear them… yet he has to tell him, one last long goodbye.

He gathers up the courage to continue. His words are heavy on his tongue, and scratch his palate with fearful and dark violence. «You aren’t here anymore, and... I would never let you go, but... You already... _You’ve already_...».

He shakes his head. His breath is heavy. And he just tightens the grip on his hand, in a awkward attempt to take his strength back just to say something more. Something that could make this long goodbye easier. But then his gaze stumbles on Magnus, lingers on his face a bit more and his heart breaks a little bit more.

«You’ll be in my heart for as long as I live.» he murmurs instead, words slipping out of his mouth. He wanted to say something else, maybe, something more resolute, more decisive. «I’ll always love you, always. No other love, nor that potion you made, nothing will ever make me forget about you».

And he drops his head near Magnus’, he stays there close to him in silence, tugging him close with an arm around his waist. And he can’t even remember how tender Magnus hugs were, how loving, how endearing.

«Come back, please» he slurs, words thick like oil on his tongue. «I never wanted this, I never wanted to choose Jace over you, never. You didn’t have to sacrifice yourself for my life or Jace’s. You are a leader for your people, you’re important for our world. For my... For my world» he swallows thickly and maybe the tears that burn in the corner of his eyes are starting to come out. «You’re the love of my life, the... The one, you know. I’ve always known I’d love you all my life. Beyond consequences, beyond sufferings, beyond anything else».

And he sits up, moving one hand to cup his cheek, while with the back of the other he wipes his face. And he looks at him, at his face. He moves his thumb on his lips.

«When I’ll leave your hand, you’ll go. And I’ll be all alone. For as much as I’ll live, I’ll be all alone…» he mumbles, as if Magnus could hear him. «I don’t really know what will happen when I’ll die, where I’ll end up to... but I hope to at least see you smile one last time, it would be enough for me, that would be heaven for me».

He sinks back with his head near Magnus’. And whimpers softly, sobbing with his lips against his skin.

«I have a lot of that material, right... I’ve wanted to watch a lot of those video in this past few days and... It was so hard Magnus... I just couldn’t...» he whispers. «How can I wake up in a bed where you aren’t with me? How can I? Yet, those videos, will make me smile, you always make me smile. And I know it aches now, but... I’ll live enough to see those videos and smile with you without feeling my heart sinking every single second, because you’re my love, my joy... What did that old song say?... You’re my sunshine».

And now he stays silent a bit more. And tries to hold back another bad loud sob.

«You know I didn’t need those videos, right? You know you’re always with me, that’s what I felt, what I feel. You run in my veins. I just needed them for when... when I grow old and don’t remember you... But I know, you run in my veins and I... I know that you felt the same, and... Thank you, yeah? For loving me. As much as you did. As you... As you do».

And maybe that’s the moment, the moment that the ring in his pocket weighs a little bit more, and his heart aches strongly in his chest.

That’s a very bad idea, a little part of him says. But it’s the only thing he can think of right now: he wants to give Magnus what he hadn’t had time to give him. That ring. And make him promises of eternal love and loyalty. And… and… _and_ …

And maybe another part of him, who knows how dominant and strong, just wants to be deruned and exiled, because he just wants that damn marriage rune on his chest but that’s against the Laws or whatever the Clave says.

So, Alec just sinks his hand in his fucking heavy pocket to fish out that little velvety box. And it’s like losing all words right at the altar. He imagined it really different, in a fancy restaurant, knelt in front of him and words slurring over his tongue. But here he is. «So... So... I’ll give it to you anyway. I planned all this sappy date, in that romantic fancy restaurant we went on our fifth date, and there, in that place I had my very first insight on this matter: I want to marry him. That’s what I thought, when you smiled me so sweetly and kindly and loving and… so... so…» he stutters and closes his eyes to just gather up more courage, the courage of breaking his heart a bit more. «I was planning to... Allow me to...» he takes his ring finger and moves the ring he’s always planned to give him. The Lightwood family ring. «I don’t need to do nothing gold or whatever. I just need you to have it. With you. Forever».

And then he moves his hand to take one of Magnus ring, the one with that green-golden stone, the one that resembles his eyes. And he just let it slide on his finger.

And his heart is even more broken, more dramatically pulsing in his chest, terribly hurting him. «I love you, Magnus Bane. With this, without runes, or vows... I marry you. And maybe you wanted something more flashy, flamboyant and... but that’s enough for me…» he smiles bitterly, and leans in to kiss his lips.

And for a moment Magnus seems to react to that kiss. But maybe it’s all in his head. Because that’s something that happens in fairy-tales and not in real life. And Magnus’ lips are actually still, motionless and welcome his mouth crushing against his teeth.

And that’s bitter. And sour. Their one last kiss.

That’s the moment, to loosen the grip and let him go.

Alec closes his eyes shouts for a moment, just enough to see some little light flicker in that forced dark, as to fight back the tears, and the heartache. «Now, I’ll leave your hand and you...» he says, voice trembling. «You can go, I don’t want you to wait any more... You need to rest and...» he opens his eyes and looks at him, motionless on the bed. «Sorry for... For everything».

And the tears are a river on his face, a waterfall as he moves his finger from Magnus’ hand, to stroke his hair one last time.

«I’ll never be okay, but... Your sacrifice won’t be vain. I love you. And loving means even letting go.» he murmurs. «I’ll be here the whole time, I won’t leave you… just bear with it a little… when your heart will stop, I’ll take you up and hug you, alright?» he murmurs again and kisses his cold knuckles one last time.

And with this he lets go of his hand.

A sudden rush of horror washes over him, like a waterfall.

The pain is so unspeakable, so impossible he can’t even think straight.

And his heart breaks a bit more.

A bit more, if possible.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and following this incoherent mess, so far!  
> Here we go: I'm working on the third story (where maybe the Happy Ending will happen, I've written a draft of the first two chapters so... I think we are approaching the Happy Ending...)  
> I'm leaving you with a sneak peek, as promised and... please tell me about what you think of it, and what you think of this final (messy) chapter. Thank you again
> 
> * * *
> 
> Azrael leans a bit closer, his irises and pupils now are white, spectral. «My scythe did its job, but you can't move on, as for now» he says. «Your soul is bonded to your body, and till your body will live, your lungs inflated with air, your heart pulsing blood in your veins... You'll be here but not properly here».  
>  _And what the actual hell does that mean?_ Magnus wants to scream: he died, but his body didn't. So somehow this should give him hope. _But..._  
>  «This is where you'll be judged for your life. For your action. Here your soul will be weighed. And maybe you'll find some better occupation than meddle with my work».
> 
> * * *
> 
> Thank you for reading so far, leave a comment, a kudo or come say hello [here](https://lamalefix.tumblr.com/) I may or may not be sharing there other sneak peeks of the next few stories of this series...  
> :D


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